


Promises

by Jojora



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Angst, M/M, References to Drugs, References to Suicide, Rough Sex, Suicide Attempt, and SMUT, but even the smut is angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-10 16:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6994912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jojora/pseuds/Jojora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver learns the truth and Connor finally breaks under the pressure of it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written fanfiction before, only read it, but I couldn't sleep and I couldn't get this concept out of my head so here you go! It's super dark and filled to the brim with angst. I'm so sorry. 
> 
> It's also a bajillion chapters long, so I'll post it in increments or maybe decide to cut it off at some point if I think it's a good stopping point. We'll see.

Oliver stood silently as he watched the door close behind Connor. He still had tears on his cheeks and he couldn’t wrap his head around everything he had just learned about the man that had been living in his apartment and sleeping in his bed. _A murderer._ He had been sleeping with a murderer. He turned around and went straight into his bedroom, not bothering to clean up the dinner they had been eating when the conversation took a turn for the worst. He didn’t even bother to change out of his clothes before he sank into his bed and closed his eyes. It was almost 3am and his whole world had just fallen apart. He was completely and utterly exhausted and he didn’t want to think anymore.

He slept fitfully and woke up to his phone ringing in his pocket. He looked over at the clock, which read 7:12am. Memories of last night rushed back into his mind and he cringed at the possibility that it was Connor calling him. Pulling out his phone, he saw Michaela’s name flashing on the screen. He sighed. He figured Connor had run to her last night and now that she knew that he knew, she wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to run to the police. Oliver figured she was probably panicking, and he was too nice to make her suffer like that, so he answered despite an overwhelming wish that he wouldn’t have to talk to Michaela, or anyone else, about this ever again.

“Hello?” Oliver answered the phone in a dull, defeated tone. 

“Oliver…” Michaela’s voice was anxious, with a hint of desperation behind it and she trailed off for a moment before trying again. “Oliver, I'm calling about Connor. He’s in the hospital. He overdosed on something last night and called me, slurring his words and not making any sense, so I called the ambulance. He said not to call you but I think you should know.”

 _Shit._ Oliver’s whole body tensed up. _Fuck._ He hadn’t even thought about it. He had been so blinded by anger and betrayal and shock at learning about Connor’s involvement in two different murders that he had forgotten about the fact that the guy he was throwing out on the streets in the middle of an emotional crisis had a drug problem. Or if it crossed his mind, he had figured Connor had been lying about that too. But now it was evident to Oliver that Connor had probably gone straight from Oliver’s apartment to a dealer and had accidentally taken too much.

“Oliver, are you there?” Michaela’s voice interrupted his train of thought.

“Which hospital?” Oliver heard himself ask, although he felt like he was far away. Once he got the information from Michaela, his instincts took over and he didn't even hesitate. He was immediately in his car and driving over. His heart wouldn’t stop racing and he couldn’t drive fast enough. Yeah, sure, he had told Connor he never wanted to see him again, but that didn’t mean the asshole was allowed to go and almost die on him.

He slammed his car door and ran into the building. He somewhat rudely asked a receptionist for a room number and turned down the hallway. Everything was a blur until he was standing in the door of Connor’s room. Then it was suddenly very, very still and all of Oliver’s anger from last night vanished, replaced with a very tight knot of guilt in his stomach as he took in the sight before him.

Connor was lying on his side with his back to the door, knees bent slightly towards his chest, in a white hospital gown. He must’ve heard Oliver’s footsteps because he slowly turned until he was on his back and looked towards the door. As soon as he met Oliver’s eyes he looked away again, pulling the hospital blanket over his shaking body and looking down at his hands to avoid looking at Oliver.

“Hey…” Oliver said softly. Connor didn’t respond, just pulled his lips into a tight line and cringed a little, as though hearing Oliver's voice was painful to him in some way. Oliver moved slowly into the room until he was standing at the foot of the bed. They were both silent for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever.

Finally, Connor spoke. His voice came out cracked and hoarse and broken he still refused to look up from the blanket. “I couldn’t do it anymore.” That was all he said, and then the room fell back to the same stretched silence as before. The knot in Oliver’s stomach tightened even more as the weight of those words sunk in. This wasn’t an accidental overdose. This was on purpose. Connor had tried to kill himself, and Oliver knew it was his fault.

Oliver was at a complete loss for words, so instead he walked up towards the side of the bed and put his hand on Connor’s arm. Connor jerked away at the touch. “Don’t touch me,” he spat, finally looking up at Oliver, and Oliver was taken aback by the piercing anger in Connor’s eyes. And he had every right to be angry, Oliver thought, as the events of last night flashed through his head.

They had just been eating takeout that Connor had brought home after work. It could have been like any other night. But Oliver was fed up with the façade. He knew Connor was keeping something big from him and had been for months, and he wasn’t okay with it anymore. He was tired of Connor's cryptic statements about how he could go to jail or how he didn't want Oliver to get in trouble but never explaining why or how. So Oliver had decided earlier in the day that it was time to confront him. And he did so, right in the middle of dinner. First he had bluntly asked. When Connor reacted with panic and wouldn’t tell him, he had begged and pleaded, not having any clue what he was actually asking for. _“I promise, we can get through it. We can get through anything. You can trust me.”_ Oliver had said. So Connor did. Connor trusted him. Connor let him in on his darkest and most painful secrets, and Oliver crushed that trust by throwing Connor out of his apartment. Oliver knew Connor was hurting. He had been shaking and crying and curling himself up into a ball as Oliver yelled at him. But Oliver was too angry and too shocked and too scared to care. After all, how are you supposed to react when you find out the man you've been living with has been involved in two separate murders? 

As Oliver looked at the broken man on the bed in front of him, though, he hated himself for breaking his promise and for not realizing just how much the murders had broken Connor. Oliver might have been horrified when he found out, but that couldn’t even compare to how traumatized Connor clearly was over the whole situation. Connor wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer. He’d gotten caught up in things out of his control and it had slowly taken a toll on him that Oliver had been too self-absorbed to notice. He had noticed some things, like how Connor sometimes woke up in the middle of the night and then would quietly get up and lock himself in the bathroom for a while. And how Connor would skip dinner, say he didn’t feel good, and go lie in bed far more often than what could be explained by actual illness. Oliver had chalked those things up to the struggle of being a recovering drug addict and the stress of law school.

But examining him now under the harsh lights of the hospital room, Connor was incredibly pale and a lot thinner than he had been when they had first met. He had bags under his eyes and exhaustion lined every crevice of his face. He might have done bad things, but it was clear that he was not a bad person and the damage that had clearly been done to his mental state was beyond enough punishment. 

"Connor…” Oliver whispered, his voice trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

Connor had gone back to looking at his hands and didn’t look up when he spoke again. “Can you leave, please?” His voice was cold and empty. There was no anger, no sadness, and definitely none of the warm and sultry tones that made Connor so hard to resist. It was just dull and filled with defeat. Oliver hesitated a moment, about to turn around and do as he was asked, but something powerful surged through him and made him change his mind. He realized that leaving would be giving up on Connor again.

“No.” Oliver said firmly. In that moment, he became determined to find a way to fix this. Back when Connor had cheated on Oliver, Connor had fought to earn back his trust no matter how hard Oliver tried to push him away. Now it was Oliver’s turn to fight to earn back Connor’s trust. He was going to keep his promise. They were going to get through it, just like he said. 

Connor glared up at Oliver. “I don’t want you here."

“Tough. I’m not leaving.” Oliver pulled up the chair from the corner and sat near Connor’s bed.

Connor sighed. He was far too tired to argue, so he just turned his back to Oliver and curled up again.


	2. Chapter 2

Oliver sat in Connor’s room for several hours, watching Connor’s breathing slow as he drifted into sleep and listening to the steady beep of his heart rate monitor. Eventually, he saw Michaela standing in the doorway and got up to pull her into the hallway so they wouldn’t disturb Connor. They walked silently for a few minutes until Oliver couldn’t take it anymore and his built-up thoughts came spilling out of him. 

“This is my fault.” He said. “I kicked him out. I thought the drug problem was a lie, I didn’t even take a second to think about how he was hurting or what he might do.” 

Michaela just looked at him for a second with eyes holding a mixture of sympathy and searching. Oliver suddenly realized she might not actually know that he knew everything. “It's not your fault,” she finally said softly. “Connor isn’t the type of person to try to kill himself over a guy, Oliver. No matter how much he loves them. You have to know that this isn’t because of you.”

Oliver swallowed and nodded, even though he still blamed himself. True, Connor wouldn’t be the type to kill himself over Oliver. Oliver wasn’t self-centered enough to think that. But that didn’t change the fact that they wouldn’t be here if Oliver hadn’t kicked Connor out while Connor was in such a vulnerable state. 

Michaela bought him a cup of coffee, and then said she had to get back to school for an afternoon class, so Oliver made his way back to Connor’s room. 

When he got there, however, a nurse stopped him. “I’m sorry. Mr. Walsh has indicated that he does not want any more visitors for the time being.” Oliver’s heart sunk and he realized Connor was probably waiting for Oliver to leave so he could keep him out without causing a scene. Through the glass door, he could see that Connor was still lying with his back to the door. He turned and went to sit in the waiting room, still determined to show Connor that he wasn’t going to let go.

He was just starting to feel like it was helpless when a doctor approached him. “Are you Oliver?” he asked. Oliver nodded and stood up. “The psychiatrist says she doesn’t want to hold him, because she's determined that it was an accidental overdose, but she’ll only sign off on Connor’s discharge if he has someone to stay with and Connor says he lives with you. Is that true?” 

Oliver’s heart surged. This had to be a good sign, if Connor was willing to come home with him. Oliver was willing to ignore the fact that Connor had lied to the psychiatrist, because this was clearly not accidental, but he figured it was probably for the best that the doctors didn't know that and try to pry into Connor's brain further. “Y-yes” He stammered to the doctor, almost too quickly. 

“Okay, they’re doing his final exam now, and then you can take him home.”


	3. Chapter 3

The entire car ride to Oliver’s apartment was silent. Connor didn’t look at him or speak a single word as they walked out of the hospital. He simply got in the front seat and stared determinedly out the window for the entire drive. Oliver was dying to know what was going through Connor’s mind but he didn’t want to push him, so he stayed quiet as well and just drove. When he parked, Connor immediately got out of the car and made his way up the stairs to the apartment. Oliver took a deep breath and followed. Everything in the air felt heavy and tense and the silence was almost suffocating him.

Oliver let them inside and Connor made a bee-line for the bedroom. Oliver followed nervously and then tensed as he watched Connor pulled out a suitcase and began unceremoniously throwing things into it. “What are you doing?” he exclaimed in shock, the words cutting through the silence that had been surrounding them.

Connor didn’t respond, just quickened his pace and continued to pack. Oliver was panicking inside. He didn’t know how to make Connor stay, but he knew he had to figure something out. If Connor left now, Oliver was sure that would be the last he ever saw of him. So Oliver walked over to him and grabbed his wrist, squeezing hard enough to make Connor drop the shirt he had been holding. “Connor, say something!” Oliver demanded.

Connor looked up at him then, and Oliver saw a glimpse of something fiery in his eyes for a fraction of a second, and then he was being slammed against the wall. His first thought was that Connor had shoved him to get him out of the way, but not even half a second later, Connor’s body was pushed up against his and Connor had both of his wrists caught in one hand and pushed into the wall above Oliver’s head as he slammed his lips onto Oliver’s.

Connor had always been somewhat controlling during sex. He had a habit of giving Oliver little shoves to guide Oliver to where he wanted him to be, and in general he liked things a little rough. Oliver was often reminded of the first time they slept together, when Connor practically threw Oliver onto the bed and demanded that Oliver “turn over.” Or the time that they fucked in a law school classroom and how Connor had said he would teach Oliver a lesson, and then given later given Oliver a rough little push onto the desk. Oliver had always been eager to be pushed around, knowing that it would result in Connor's experienced hands and mouth doing things beyond what the average guy could do to him. And even when Connor bottomed, he wasn’t shy about telling Oliver exactly what he wanted. But it had always been a playful sort of dominance.

This, however, wasn’t a kiss that could be described as playful by any sense of the imagination. It was fueled with rage. And it was sloppy, teeth slamming against teeth and a couple of rough bites to Oliver's bottom lip. But it was something different from the deafening silence, and Oliver was relieved at the fact that Connor was finally communicating even if he could only do it physically. So he relaxed into Connor’s hold and let Connor take control. He tilted his head up and gasped when Connor moved his lips to Oliver’s neck. Connor pulled the collar of his t-shirt down to reach his collarbone, almost hard enough to rip it. Then Connor bit him. Hard. Oliver let out a cry but made no move to pull away.

Connor flipped Oliver over so that the side of his face was pushed up against the wall. He had let go of Oliver’s hands, but Oliver kept them above his head anyway, steadying himself on his forearms. Connor’s breath had quickened and he panted into Oliver’s neck as he reached around to undo Oliver’s pants, and then pulled them and his boxers down with a forceful tug, not even bothering to remove Oliver's shirt or take his pants off from around his ankles. Oliver heard Connor’s own belt being undone and felt Connor’s skin press up against his. Felt Connor’s erection against his thigh as Connor's hands parted his ass. “Connor…” Oliver began, but was interrupted when Connor shoved a finger up his ass and Oliver let out a choked gasp followed by a moan. Clearly Connor didn’t want Oliver to talk, and suddenly Oliver had forgotten what he was going to say anyway. He rolled his hips back into Connor to encourage the sensation, but Connor withdrew his hand just as quickly as he had entered him. Before Oliver could respond to the lack, Connor shoved two fingers up. Oliver clenched his fists and all of the air in his lungs came out in a rushed exhale. He felt tears prickling his eyes as he adjusted to the harsh, unlubricated intrusion. It was painful, but in a weird way the physical pain was a relief from all of the emotional tension Oliver had built up over the last several hours. It grounded him into the present moment and made everything else leave his mind. Connor pumped in and out slowly a few times. Then his fingers were gone again and Oliver felt Connor press the tip of his dick to his ass, gripping his hips tight enough to leave bruises.

Panic washed over Oliver as he remembered what he had been about to say a moment before. Connor didn’t have a condom and didn’t seem to care in this reckless mindset, but Oliver cared. He wouldn’t let Connor get infected. “Connor, STOP.” Oliver said, and in his panic it came out louder and harsher than he had meant it to.

Connor immediately stilled his movements and loosened his grip on Oliver's hips, and then suddenly Oliver couldn’t feel him at all. He turned around and saw Connor backing away and pulling up his pants with an utterly horrified look on his face. “Oh god. Oh god, I didn’t… I didn’t mean… oh god,” he began stammering, eyes wide and staring directly at Oliver.

Immediately, Oliver realized what Connor was thinking. But he hadn’t meant to sound like he didn’t want this. He didn’t mean stop as in _stop,_ he just meant it as in _we need a condom._ But Connor had interpreted it much differently. He had interpreted it as though everything he had just done was against Oliver’s will, and now he was panicking at the thought of what he had done.

“Connor, wait, it’s okay” Oliver rushed, grabbing Connor’s arm because Connor had that look in his eyes, like a panicked wild animal that was about to flee. Oliver was still breathing hard from what they had been doing moments before. “I was just going to remind you that we need to be safe.”

Connor looked at him for a moment and then nodded, but his thoughts looked far away and all of the fire that had been fueling his previous actions was gone. Oliver realized this and slowly let go of Connor’s arm to pull up his own pants, but just as he was buttoning them up Connor crumbled. He sank to the ground, his hands coming up to make fists in his own hair and pull his head down between his knees. He let out a harsh, wrecked sob, and he shook as cried.

“Oh Jesus, Connor…” Oliver whispered as he watched the man shatter right in front of him. Prior to this, everything about Connor had seemed cold and distant and Oliver had been desperately hoping for Connor to warm up to him and open up even a little bit. But instead, the floodgates came crashing open all at once. Connor’s sanity had been on edge for months and clearly, it had finally come undone.

Oliver sat down on the ground next to Connor and pulled the sobbing man into his arms. Connor clutched at Oliver’s shirt like it was his lifeline to prevent him from drowning and his breath came out in quick gasps against Oliver’s neck. “Shh... it’s okay” Oliver hummed as he rocked Connor slowly.


	4. Chapter 4

They sat like that on the floor for what seemed like ages. Oliver slowly rocking Connor, cradling the man in his arms and whispering calming words to him as his gasps turned to shaky breaths and then his breathing finally returned to normal. Even then, Connor didn’t move. He kept his face pressed into Oliver’s neck and his hands clenched tightly in Oliver’s shirt, completely still and holding on as though his grasp on Oliver was the only thing keeping him grounded to the earth. Oliver would have held him there forever, except his legs had gone numb and his back ached and he really needed to get up off the floor.

Slowly, Oliver turned his face towards the top of Connor’s head and muttered softly into his hair, “Come on, let’s stand up.” Connor didn’t respond. Oliver tugged gently at Connor’s arm to see if he could get him to loosen his vice-like grip. “Let’s move to somewhere more comfortable,” he coaxed. 

Finally, Connor reluctantly complied and slowly removed himself from Oliver. His eyes were red and swollen and he looked at Oliver for only a moment before looking away again. Oliver stood up and pulled Connor up with him. He let go once they were standing, but Connor swayed on his feet, so he quickly grabbed him again and, after throwing Connor’s half-filled suitcase on the floor, guided him over to sit on the bed. He knelt down and pulled off Connor’s shoes, and then slowly unbuttoned his shirt, folding it neatly and placing it on a nearby dresser. Then he prompted Connor to get up slightly so that he could pull off his pants. Connor was almost motionless as Oliver undressed him, watching Oliver with an unreadable expression on his face. Oliver's heart ached at the way Connor just looked so empty. Like he wasn't even there anymore and Oliver was just left with this empty shell of a person. 

Oliver guided him under the covers of the bed. He undressed himself and got in on the other side, pulling Connor’s back towards his chest and holding him close. He figured they were going to fall asleep then, but he shouldn’t have been surprised when Connor suddenly broke out of his trance and rolled over while simultaneously pushing Oliver onto his back, intertwining a leg and kissing him. After all, Connor almost always turned to sex as a form of comfort. 

The kiss wasn’t angry this time, but it was still rough in a desperate and hungry way. Connor might have been lying about the drug problem, Oliver thought, but he was absolutely a junkie. This was his fix. But Oliver was completely willing to let Connor have it, grateful that the man had his tongue shoved in Oliver’s mouth because it meant he was alive when he very well could have not been. Oliver kissed him back for a moment, and then moved his hand up to grab Connor’s hair. He tugged at it, pulling Connor’s head down as he tilted his own chin up, encouraging Connor to kiss his neck. Connor quickly obliged, scraping his teeth against the skin and then latching on. Oliver arched into his mouth with a sigh. 

Connor’s hand was holding the back side of Oliver’s head but soon he began trailing it down his neck, down his shoulder, and down his chest, his fingernails lightly scraping Oliver’s skin. When he reached Oliver’s stomach he paused, hesitant and clearly unsure, possibly still traumatized slightly by the way their last sexual encounter ended. So Oliver grabbed Connor’s hand with his own and guided it lower, pressing him into his groin. At this silent reassurance, Connor began moving again, rubbing Oliver through his underwear. After a moment he hooked his fingers into Oliver’s boxers and pulled them off. Oliver’s half-hard cock sprung free and Connor immediately started jerking Oliver off as he rutted his own still-clothed erection against the side of Oliver’s hip. Oliver reached down and pulled Connor’s boxers halfway down his legs, because taking them off completely would have interrupted things and Connor was far too focused for that. As soon as they were out of the way, Connor pushed himself down onto Oliver’s hip even harder. He was no longer kissing Oliver and his face just hovered over Oliver’s neck, his breath coming out hot against Oliver’s collarbone. 

This wasn’t about endurance or technique. Connor usually had a whole selection of sexy tricks up his sleeve, but this time he wasn’t giving his signature smirk or nipping at Oliver's sensitive spots and teasing Oliver until Oliver thought he was going to explode. In fact, he wasn't even making eye contact. This was solely about desperately trying to come. It was pure carnal instinct. Trying to get his fix and seeking a momentary escape from his mind by focusing only on the physical. Connor’s movements were needy and erratic, grunting and rutting and seeking a release. He was panting and gasping into Oliver’s chest as Oliver gripped the bed sheet and rocked his hips into Connor. Then Oliver was coming onto his stomach with a groan. 

Once Oliver had come down from the high a little bit, he pushed Connor away slightly so he could have access to Connor's cock. Then he reached down and grabbed Connor, giving him rough tugs and twisting his wrist a little at the tip each time. Connor's head fell forward a little at Oliver's touch. Soon, Connor’s whole body tensed and his heavy breaths turned into not breathing at all. He was silent he came, his eyes closed and his hand gripping Oliver’s shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise. A moment later he went limp onto Oliver’s body and pressed his face back into Oliver’s neck. Oliver noted that this seemed to be his new favorite place to immerse himself. 

Oliver ran a hand up and down Connor’s back and took a deep, shaky breath. The last 24 hours had been an emotional roller coaster of monumental proportions. He had gone from kicking Connor out and never wanting to see him again, to practically clinging onto Connor out of fear of losing him. Connor had tried to kill himself and had barely spoken a word since, instead transitioning rapidly from a cold and distant demeanor to falling apart to fucking his issues away. It was all a bit dizzying and overwhelming, but for now Oliver was content to know that he had Connor alive and safe in his arms. With that thought in mind, he slowly drifted off into a deep slumber.


	5. Chapter 5

When Oliver woke up the next morning, Connor wasn’t in the bed. Oliver shot up in a panic, thinking Connor had run, but then noticed Connor’s shoes were still on the floor where he had placed them last night and his half packed suitcase was still thrown haphazardly on the ground. He rolled out of bed, pulled on his boxers, and shuffled into the living area where he could see Connor sitting on the balcony. Connor was staring out into nothing and wringing his hands together. 

Oliver opened his balcony door and hissed at the cold morning air on his mostly bare skin. “Hey,” he said cautiously. They hadn’t really had any substantive conversation last night and it felt strange to speak now. 

Connor jumped a little at Oliver’s voice and then turned to look at Oliver, his face weary and his body heavy. Oliver wondered if Connor had slept at all or for how long, because he looked utterly exhausted, but at least he looked a little more aware of the world around him than he did last night. “Come inside, it’s freezing out.” Oliver said gently, and Connor wordlessly got up and followed him inside. He was shivering so Oliver quickly pulled him in close, rubbing his hands up and down Connor’s arms to warm him up.

“How about a hot shower?” Oliver asked, and Connor gave a small nod. So Oliver led them into the bathroom and started warming up the water for him. As he was doing so, Connor finally spoke from behind him, his voice small and quiet. “I should go,” he murmured. Oliver immediately straightened up and turned around to look at Connor. Connor was staring at the ground as he continued. “I know I’m a wreck, and you feel like you have to take care of me, but I know you don’t want me here. You shouldn’t have to do this.” 

Oliver’s chest tightened at the words. They were ridiculous. Of course he wanted Connor here, why else would he have camped out at that damn hospital all day and refused to leave? So Oliver shook his head and pulled Connor in for a kiss. Connor remained tense. He didn’t really kiss back but he didn’t pull away either. He let Oliver gently undress him and guide him into the shower spray. Oliver followed close behind. He washed Connor, slow and gentle, lathering his body with soap and massaging shampoo through his hair, then running a hand up and down his tense back and placing soft kisses along his jaw and neck until Connor finally gave in and relaxed under his touch, allowing whatever wall he had built up in his mind to fall as he rested his forehead on Oliver's shoulder and Oliver held him close.

When they got out of the shower, they still hadn’t spoken much. After getting dressed, Connor had once again retreated back to his distant silence, and Oliver felt like he was walking on eggshells around Connor. He would get Connor to liven up a little bit just to have Connor sink back into himself a few moments later. Connor was still 100% on edge and he never knew how Connor was going to react to anything, so he hesitated to start the conversations that weighed in the air around them. Instead, Oliver went into the kitchen and pulled out some eggs to start cooking while Connor quietly grabbed a couple mugs to make coffee, and for a moment things were just normal. Domestic. As though it was just another day. 

They sat down to breakfast, and finally Oliver decided to test Connor's mental state. “Can you talk about it?” he asked gently. Connor stilled his movements with his fork still in his eggs and looked up at Oliver. 

“What do you mean?” he asked nervously. 

“When you tried to…” Oliver trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. “What was going through your head? Can you help me understand?” Connor's brow furrowed for a brief moment, and then he just looked back at his plate to fork up some egg as if Oliver had never asked the question. He clearly did not want to have this conversation, but he didn't look like he was about to break, so Oliver pushed a little more. “Talk to me Connor. Please. I promise I can help you get through it,” Oliver coaxed. He had said it out of pure habit and instinct, but the moment he said it, he realized it was a mistake. Connor tensed up and his fork fumbled from his hand. It clattered to the floor as everything else in the room went momentarily silent. Oliver immediately realized that what he had just said was eerily similar to the words he had used last time, right before he ended up kicking Connor out onto the street in the middle of Connor’s mental breakdown, and he froze from the shock of his obvious mistake. 

Connor muttered something inaudible under his breath that Oliver was pretty sure was a curse word and brought a hand up to run through his hair before looking up at Oliver. His anger and betrayal that he had been burying in a stony silence since last night was coming back up to the surface and tears welled up in his eyes. He swallowed thickly and stood up from the table. “You don’t get to promise me that,” he choked out bitterly. And with that he turned and left the apartment. 

Oliver sat, still frozen in shock for a moment, before his brain clicked back into gear and he immediately lunged for the apartment door to chase after Connor. He looked up and down the hallway, but Connor was long gone. “Shit,” Oliver hissed as he retreated back into his apartment.


	6. Chapter 6

Oliver waited all day for Connor to come back. He paced up and down his living room, he cleaned, and he tried to distract himself. He called Connor a couple of times but got no response. When the sun started to set, he couldn’t handle waiting any more. Connor was barely functioning and now he was out roaming the streets and Oliver was terrified that he would be getting another call soon, this time with news that Connor had succeeded in what he had failed to do last time. So Oliver opened up his laptop and did what he knew how to do best. He hacked into Connor’s phone to track his location.

Oliver pulled up to the bar where Connor’s phone had led him, walking inside and scanning the place for Connor. He couldn’t see him anywhere. Oliver sighed and then walked up to the bartender to see if she had seen him.

“Yeah, he's been drinking here all day. You just missed him, he left about ten minutes ago,” she said when Oliver showed her a picture on his cell phone.

Oliver thanked her and quickly left, hoping he could catch up with Connor on the street. But he didn’t have to go more than 20 feet before he found him. Or at least heard him. Or more accurately, he heard a moan that was heartbreakingly familiar.

Oliver froze and turned his head to look down the alley next to the bar, even though he already knew he didn’t want to see what was down there. Sure enough, Connor was in the alley with his back up against the wall and his eyes closed tight and his hands threaded in the hair of another man that was knelt down in front of him.

Oliver’s stomach twisted. He felt like he was going to be sick as he turned and ran back to his car, barely getting inside before the tears started falling. His first reaction was anger, but the more he thought about it, he didn’t think he even had a right to be angry at Connor. After all, it was only 48 hours ago that he had been the one to say they were over. Connor had begged him, pleading _“I love you, Ollie. I LOVE you. Please. You mean everything to me. Please don’t do this.” “Get out, Connor. I don’t love you. How could anybody love you? I can’t even stand to look at you. You disgust me,”_ Oliver had screamed at him as Connor whimpered and curled further in on himself. His words had been cruel and harsh, a gut reaction to the paralyzing fear he had been feeling from learning about the murders. And what was it that Connor had said this morning? _“I know you don’t want me here.”_ Oliver knew he wasn’t saying that to guilt trip him, but because he actually believed that. Because Oliver had made him believe that he was no longer loved by him. Or worse, that he was no longer capable of being loved by anyone. As the memory floated back into Oliver’s brain, he realized that in all the time since those words had been spoken, he had never taken them back. He had never let Connor know that they were all a lie, a defense mechanism to cover up Oliver’s sheer terror. He had never righted the wrong and let Connor know that he still truly and deeply loved him. Oliver had been so frustrated at how Connor hadn’t been talking very much, but Oliver hadn’t used his words either. A quickie and a shower weren’t going to fix the damage he had done.

No, Oliver had no right to be angry at anyone except himself. He had spent months slowly convincing Connor to break down his walls for him, to let him in and to change for him, to overcome his commitment issues and his deeply held trust issues. It was something that was clearly not easy for Connor, to let someone in like that. And then Oliver had turned around and shattered Connor. He waited for Connor to expose his soft underbelly just so he could stick a knife into it. It was disgusting, really, how cruel Oliver had been to Connor when Connor was desperately crying out for help. Oliver knew he deserved the hurt he was feeling now, and he probably would never deserve to have Connor back in his life.

Oliver wished more than anything that things could go back to the way they were. He wished he had never begged Connor to tell him anything. Or at least that he reacted differently. That maybe he had taken even a second to stop and really notice the pain and suffering that was evident in every inch of Connor that night as he reiterated those dark memories to Oliver. From the way his body was shaking to the way the tears were pouring from his eyes to the way his elbows folded in and his knees folded up and his hands clutched his stomach and chest and his shoulders hunched over. All of it looking like his skeleton was about to collapse and he was desperately trying to hold all his bones together. His eyes had been distant, lost in the depths of his own mind as he relived the deeply traumatic moments out loud. Oliver had been blinded by his own anger, but now he wished he had pulled the man into his arms right then and promised to never let go.

But he couldn’t go back. He had broken something vital between them when he chose to give up on Connor in one of Connor’s most vulnerable moments. Something that had taken so much time and effort to build. So now Connor was regressing. Closing himself off again and using some stranger’s body to numb any desire for a human connection.

All of these thoughts spun around in Oliver’s head like a tornado until he opened his car door and vomited onto the parking lot pavement. At that moment, Oliver Hampton really and truly hated himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Oliver went back to his apartment and cried. And then threw a few plates at the wall, and then cried some more. At some point he fell asleep, though he had no idea when or for how long. He had no concept of time. Eventually, he dragged himself back over to his laptop to track Connor again, but Connor’s phone must have died because he didn’t receive a signal. Days passed and he didn’t hear from Connor, or Michaela, or anyone else. 

It wasn’t until almost a week later that Connor came stumbling back. Oliver was in the kitchen trying to convince himself that he really needed to eat something, and he jumped at the sound of a loud thud against his front door. He ran over to look through the peep hole and saw a body slumped forward against the door. The view was limited because of the person's close proximity to the door, but he immediately recognized that it was Connor by his familiar clothes. Oliver moved to open the door and Connor came tumbling inside.

As Connor burst through the door, he was tripping over his own feet and Oliver grabbed him to keep him from falling. Connor reeked of alcohol and couldn’t focus his eyes on anything. Oliver wasn't sure if Connor even knew where he was. Oliver grasped him with a strong arm and led him to the couch. 

He immediately started reaching to unbutton Connor’s shirt. It was the same outfit Connor had been wearing when he left a week earlier, which made sense since Connor had left all of his clothes here. But his clothes now clung to his body soaked in sweat and who knew what else. His hair was disheveled, his eyes were wild, and god, he smelled so bad. “No…” Connor slurred, followed by something incomprehensible, as he rolled sideways and flailed his arm onto the back of the couch as though he was trying to crawl up it. Oliver ignored him and continued to struggle with the first couple of buttons.

“No,” Connor said a bit louder and pushed Oliver’s hands away. Oliver backed off and sat down on the coffee table across from Connor. For a moment they just watched each other warily. Then Oliver stood up to go get a fresh shirt and sweats from his bedroom and hand them to Connor. 

“I just thought you would appreciate some clean clothes,” he mumbled. At that, Connor looked down at himself with a look of confusion that was almost humorous, and then brought his hands up to undo his own shirt. His hands fumbled and he couldn’t undo a single button so he soon gave up, dropping his hands down to his lap. Slowly, Oliver reached over to help him and this time Connor didn’t fight back. 

As Oliver peeled the sticky and gross shirt off of Connor’s body, he gasped. Connor’s torso was severely bruised. It even looked like might have a couple broken ribs. “What…” Oliver whispered as he gently placed his fingers on a large bruise. Connor hissed and flinched at the touch and Oliver quickly withdrew his hand. 

He sighed and bunched the clean t-shirt up to pull it over Connor’s head, before peeling off Connor’s pants and underwear and replacing them with the sweats. Connor let Oliver dress him without protest, acting limp like a rag doll. Then Oliver pulled Connor up off the couch and led him to the bed, figuring that was the most he could do until Connor sobered up. As Connor fell ungracefully onto bed he mumbled something inaudible. 

“What?” Oliver asked softly.

“I hate you.” Connor said a little louder before finally succumbing to the alcohol and passing out on the bed.


	8. Chapter 8

Oliver froze at the words and felt his heart break a little bit more. He bit back tears. Once upon a time, Connor had taken care of a drunken Oliver and laid him down in the same bed, only that time Oliver had mumbled something very different in his inebriated state. It hadn’t been that long ago, but things had really changed since then.

Oliver didn’t crawl in to the bed with him this time. He no longer felt like it would be appropriate. Instead he rearranged Connor’s limp body into a position where he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit, and then he went back out to the living space and grabbed a kitchen chair to put in the corner of the bedroom, where he sat and watched the man who was passed out on his bed to make sure he didn’t stop breathing in his sleep. He hated the sight of what Connor had become. The cocky young law student with the irresistible smirk had disappeared and all that was left was a broken, bruised, shell of a man. 

Eventually Oliver dozed off in the chair and when he woke up, Connor wasn’t in the bed. Instead, he could hear the sounds of Connor retching in the bathroom. Oliver sighed. Normally he would go in there to run a hand up and down Connor’s back and try to comfort him while he was sick, but now that felt intrusive. Connor wouldn’t want him in there. It was too vulnerable of a situation and that intimacy between them was gone. So Oliver shuffled into the kitchen and filled a glass with water. Then he grabbed a bottle of Tylenol and he left both of them on the chair he had left in the bedroom, positioned so that it was just outside the bathroom door. Then he pulled the sheets off his bed and threw them in the hamper and went to lay down on the couch.

By the time Connor emerged from the bathroom, Oliver had started crying again. Tears were rolling down as he stared at the ceiling, remembering what Connor had said last night, and he didn’t even hear the bathroom door open. It wasn’t until Connor was sitting on the coffee table and placing a hand gently on Oliver’s shoulder that Oliver noticed Connor’s presence. Oliver quickly sat up and wiped his cheeks and Connor pulled his hand back into his own lap. 

“I’m sorry,” Connor mumbled under his breath, looking at Oliver with shame and guilt written all over his face. “I don’t really remember how I got here, but I’m sorry I keep ending up here and making you pick up my pieces instead of leaving you alone. I’m going, I swear. I just…. Thanks.” With that, Connor moved to get up but Oliver reached out and grabbed his arm. 

“Connor, please don’t leave.” There was a hint of desperation in Oliver’s voice and Connor slowly sat back down, looking at Oliver with concern. “Can we just talk? Please? I really, really need for us to talk.” Oliver said, his voice cracking a little at the end. 

Connor gave a small shrug. “About what?” he asked after a long pause.

“You’re all bruised…” Oliver started, but trailed off. It wasn’t what he really wanted to talk about, but he had been worrying and wondering about it throughout the night and he wanted to make sure Connor was okay before he moved on to the more pressing questions.

Connor winced. Apparently he had forgotten until Oliver reminded him and now he could suddenly feel how sore he was. “I, um… hooked up with some guy and his boyfriend walked in. Big guy...” Connor was fidgeting and averting his gaze. He was clearly uncomfortable talking to Oliver about having sex with other guys. Oliver just nodded, and chose not to mention the fact that he had already seen Connor getting blown by some sleazebag in an alleyway so hearing about a hook-up was a little anti-climactic.

“Do you really hate me?” Oliver’s next question came spilling out before he even knew what he was saying and it hung in the air like a black hole, sucking the energy out of the room. 

Connor stiffened a little as he remembered his drunken confession. “No,” he said softly. “I don’t hate you.” He paused. “I wish I did though.” Oliver didn’t say anything, but Connor must’ve felt Oliver’s gaze because he continued. “You broke me,” he practically whispered. “I used to know who I was, without a doubt, and as soon as I met you I lost that. Now I can’t do anything without thinking of you. And it fucking hurts, because I’m completely in love with you and you don’t love me back anymore. So I keep trying to stay away from you because I know that’s what you want, but it’s so damn hard.” A tear rolled down Connor’s cheek and he moved to wipe it with his hand. 

“I do love you.” Oliver responded quietly, and Connor’s head shot up to look at him. “I do love you, Connor. God, I’m so sorry I made you think that I didn’t. I never should have said those things. I’ve spent almost every moment since wishing I could take it all back. When I got that call from Michaela…” Oliver choked up and he looked away. He took a deep breath and continued, “My whole world stopped. I don’t know what I would have done if…" he couldn't bring himself to say it. "I would never have forgiven myself,” he said instead. 

When Oliver looked back at Connor, Connor was caving in on himself again. His shoulders were hunched and he was shaking and he let out a small sob. This time, Oliver didn’t hesitate to reach over and pull Connor towards him. 

“I was so stupid,” Connor choked out through tears. “I just felt like everything was too much and I kept thinking about how I could never go back. I could never un-see everything and it would never stop haunting me and I would never be able to just be a normal person again. And I would never be the kind of person you could love again. So I just wanted it all to stop. But I was so stupid. I’m so sorry.” 

Oliver just held Connor a little tighter and they both cried together for a while. When they had both calmed down a bit, Oliver held Connor out in front of him. “Can you please take a shower?” he asked, smiling despite the tears still staining his face. “You really smell.”

Connor choked out a laugh and ran his hand through his own greasy hair. “Right, yeah…” he murmured, getting up and dragging himself towards the bathroom.

“Hey, Connor,” Oliver started, and Connor paused, turning to look at him.

“Yeah?” 

“I love you.” Oliver felt a desperate need to say it, and to say it often, and to never let Connor doubt it ever again.

Connor’s lips slowly curved into a small smile as he let the words sink in. “I love you too, Ollie” he said, his voice cracking. And with that, he turned around and went into the bathroom, his body visibly more relaxed as though a huge weight had just been lifted off of it.


End file.
